


Maybe (Honey)

by Anika_Ann



Category: Captain America (Movies), Defending Jacob (TV 2020), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Mind the warnings, Morally Grey, Praise Kink, Self-Hatred, Smut, dub-con, seriously, sugar daddy dynamics, you can hate me after you read the warnings and the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29309916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anika_Ann/pseuds/Anika_Ann
Summary: You and your boyfriend Steve love each other; but money’s tight. You found an unorthodox solution and decide to go through with it. Without Steve’s knowledge.Enter a very specific agency and Andy Barber.AU for both MCU and Defending Jacob.Entry for donutloverxo's tumblr sugary challenge.
Relationships: Andy Barber/You, Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	Maybe (Honey)

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what I’m doing, but this fic is meant for @donutloverxo’s sugary challenge.
> 
> Also, this work of fiction is not meant to judge anyone. I repeat – it is not meant to judge anyone or imply that SD-SB relationships or using your body as a tool is absolutely inacceptable. We respect people’s choices here. 
> 
> **Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, dub-con** , morally grey, mention of cheating, cheating, praise kink, masturbation, bit of cumplay, angst, onset of a panic attack, heavy self-depreciation, eh… ooc Andy(?), rather negative (and totally inaccurate) description of SD agencies and relationships

Your index finger hovered over the button, teeth sinking into your lower lip with anxiety.

_This is a terrible idea._

To be fair, Nat, your bestie for better and for worse, agreed. Then again, she had also been the one to suggest you went for it and was chilling in the nearby bed while you filled out the form, _knowing_ what you were doing and not stopping you, so… you guessed it couldn’t be that bad of an idea.

Saying yes to this question however, probably was.

_Sexual intercourse (PIV): Yes – Maybe – No_

Considering you had a boyfriend, the answer should be straightforward NO.

Then again, Steve was a great part of the reason _why_ you were signing up for this stupid app in the first place.

Ever since the _wonderful_ birthday dinner at your family’s house, you were… not necessarily struggling with finances, but knowing you had three last months before your father cut you off his support made you already save money for the rainier days. It _sucked,_ likely because you were maybe trying too hard. But your dad said you were a big girl now. And as the good father he was, he promised to send you the usual payment for three more months, because such a sudden change to your budget would be brutal.

Especially since you and Steve moved in together a month before that. Steve was finishing his PhD. at the university and you, being a student with only part-time job yourself, weren’t exactly great contributor to your budget.

It wasn’t that you father had been showering you with enough money to lead life in luxury, but it had been enough to get by okay. Now, you _and_ Steve were trying to save for food – which was a horrible idea considering his body built –, for take-away coffee, wearing clothes that had seen better days just so you didn’t have to buy new ones and--- you hated seeing Steve like that. The food part was the worst, the most visible.

The night you learned about your father cutting you off, you took it as a champ, accepting it as a fact and continuing the conversation as if nothing significant happened. Later that night, Steve held you close to comfort you, assuring you it changed nothing about your relationship and that you were his everything. That night you made a silly suggestion.

_“…you can’t exactly sell me to put food to your mouth--- well, technically-“_

At that time, Steve’s answer was a very harsh no, and you apologized for talking stupid. Two months later, here you were.

Secretly filling out a form for a sugar daddy agency.

Natasha helped you pick, claiming this one was extremely discreet, as she knew from her cousin who had been using it for almost two years and apparently said she didn’t have a reason to complain _once._ In addition, there was no pressure on signing a contract until the fifth meeting and _yet,_ the men committed themselves to paying certain sum of money for the meetings slash dates alone. No strings attached for you. Kinda.

So. It seemed you were about to become a sugar baby. Not for long; just enough to make some savings, an emergency stash so to speak. You didn’t want to fall down the hole and stay for two years like Yelena – you believed the money would be addictive. And which would be worse, Steve would find out.

Steve could never _ever_ find out. It felt like you were cheating on him already.

You wouldn’t cheat on Steve. _Ever._ You loved him with all your heart and soul and he was the kindest man you had ever met. Incidentally, he was also the hottest one, smartest one and sweetest one and the second funniest one; in that aspect, he came close after Bucky, his _hysterical_ best friend.

Steve had picture in a damn dictionary next to the words ‘perfect boyfriend’. Which was why you should just click on the damn _no,_ because there was no way you let any other man inside you. The mere idea made you physically sick.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Natasha remarked next to your ear and you jumped in your seat with a startled yelp, your heart nearly giving out.

“Jesus, Nat! What the _hell-!“_

“Girl. That’s a no. You have Steve. Or can you like… imagine doing it?”

Jesus _fuck,_ how did she know exactly what the train of your thought was?!

“You’re right,” you said, shaking your head instantly, finally settling on no. Moving to another question however, you bit your cheek. “But the chances are higher that someone will pick me, right? If I say yes?”

The silence that fell on the room was solemn, Natasha’s hand reaching out and pushing your shoulder to force you to look at her. Her eyes were wide, concerned, disapproval written all over her face.

“Yes. And it will also mean that they will _want_ you to sleep with them. And I mean _sleep with them._ Bang you into the damn wall and make you like it, or make you pretend you like it. Is that what you want?”

No. Absolutely not. Your stomach turned over at the idea.

You were all for being fucked into a wall. _By your boyfriend._ Your amazing, wonderful boyfriend, who would have his heart broken if he ever found out. Which would probably happen, because you wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye and just confessed to him.

And that would be the end of your relationship – you couldn’t have that under any circumstance.

Then again, how long would you even be able to keep this extra part-time job secret anyway? You needed as much as money as you could in a short period of time-

“That’s my girl. Leave the no.“

“But it will get me more money too, right? Faster? I don’t look to make a fortune, Nat, I just--- a few nights to have an extra money for the worst-case scenarios and… then I’ll be done with it,” you explained, trying to convince her as much as yourself.

Maybe… _maybe?_

“This is an awful idea. It’s fucking _terrible,_ hun. You don’t wanna go down that road,” Nat argued, hiding her anger at you for even considering the option behind a soft frown.

“Others did.”

She sighed. “Yes. But a) you are a sweet loyal person who totally needs a connection to sleep with someone and b) there’s this little detail that you have a damn _boyfriend.”_

You shook your head and quickly changed your answer to ‘maybe’ at least. Natasha gave a hiss in warning.

“It’s not yes!” you protested, instantly on the defensive. “Maybe I’ll luck out. I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. Except for the fact that I love Steve and watching him ruin himself is--- that’s not gonna work. I’m choosing the maybe for him. For us.”

“I still hate it,” your friend muttered, but yielded. “If this is gonna ruin my OTP, I’m fucking firing you as my best friend.”

You mouth fell open in shock, feeling the mental blow deep in your stomach as if she actually hit you. She would—after you’d-

“Okay, I wouldn’t, I’d be there to give you a shoulder to cry on, ‘cause I’m with you till the end of the line or whatever, but--- just… Steve’s _the guy,_ okay? You have this… puppy love going on. You’re gonna marry him one day and have two little carbon copies of you running around, white picket fence in the suburbs and all that. Don’t mess this up, hun,” Natasha whispered, deadly serious, just a hint of a smile playing in the corner of her mouth. “Don’t forget that his stomach might be protesting, but he’d withstand it for years for you and his heart would be happy. He’s crazy about you.”

You stared at your best friend, few tears forming in your eyes, warmth settling around your heart, because you knew she was telling you the truth. In a really cheesy way, but the truth nevertheless.

“You write those yourself?” you teased her lightly and she playfully slapped your shoulder, rolling her eyes. “Thank you, Nat. Believe me – I can’t lose Steve. And I won’t.”

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷*♥⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

You should have known you’d be eating your words in less than a week later.

Upon entering the restaurant and having the hostess lead you towards the private room, you were certain this was your punishment.

Because sitting at the table – with white cloth and everything, because this was a high-brow restaurant, you had had to at least try to dress accordingly to that – was Steve. You froze in the doorway, entirely deaf to the what the woman said to you before she left.

Your gut twisted in panic, heart pounding in your chest. This wasn’t happening. How could it--- had Nat told him? Was this a set-up? Or was Steve in the app? Impossible. But then _how_ was this possible?!

Because it was happening. Steve was sitting at the table, expensively looking suit, fluffy hair and beard--- and your lips parted in shock when you looked at him; _truly_ looked at him.

His hair was an inch shorter and a shade darker. He filled the suit well, but his shoulders were a little less square than you were used to; where Steve appeared a bit like a bodybuilder, this _man_ was more like… athletic.

It wasn’t Steve. This man just looked like could as well be his twin.

You had no idea what to do.

On one hand, this was clearly a punishment, an all-night reminder that you had a boyfriend who loved you and currently believed you were having a fun girls’ night with your bestie. On the other hand, maybe you could make this _work_. Your nerves had been getting the best of you, still were now, but perhaps seeing a familiar face would help?

Fuck, this was so ironic. Maybe you should just leave. Or walk straight towards the table, tell the man you were sorry, but you couldn’t do this. He looked like Steve; surely he was equally nice? Okay, probably not, but at least something of him--

It was the exact moment Steve’s twin raised his gaze from his phone, scanning the room— and spotting you standing in the doorway like a dumbass.

Apparently not concerned by your hesitance, his lips curled in a soft smile and he rose to his feet, approaching you with measured steps. He was slightly shorter than Steve too; and he had a few more lines around his eyes.

“Good evening, miss,” he offered in levelled voice, causing you to gulp and finally unfreeze. You tried to smile and likely failed as you returned the greeting politely.

He had kind eyes; and despite the low-lit intimate setting of the private room, you could tell his irises were also a different shade from Steve’s. Despite the jab of guilt at remembering Steve again, you made a quick choice.

Extending your hand, you introduced yourself – with your previously chosen fake name, obviously.

The man gently grasped your hand, faking a kiss to its back. _Oh no._ He was being a gentleman. That was… you weren’t certain whether you liked it or not.

“Pleasure to meet you. Call me Andy. Shall we sit?”

And you did. You let him lead you to the table as if you weren’t in control of your body anymore, allowed him to pull the chair out for you and hand you the wine list while he seated himself.

Eyes skimming the list of names you barely ever heard of – with no price quoted –, your gaze flickered over the top of the menu to your companion and swiftly returned as he caught you.

You might as well say you caught _him_ watching you, smiling with one corner of his lips higher, but unlike you, he didn’t shy away from it, quiet confidence and an air of power surrounding him.

You wondered if he knew how out of your element you were.

And you wondered, whether the knot forming in your stomach was guilt or a flicker of excitement.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷*♥⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Listening to Andy talking, you soon realized he also had a different manner of speaking. There was a lilt to his voice, something about the colour you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You learned things about him. That he was here for a week on a business trip, but also took whatever chance he could get to relax and enjoy the city – you did _not_ miss the meaningful once-over he gave you – that he was an attorney, he came from Boston, enjoyed swimming and always wanted a dog.

Question was, how much of that was true. You weren’t a good liar, but you alternated what you could anyway. Andy now knew what your major was, but was told a fake minor. You picked a city close to your home, but not your hometown and complained about the winters there. Only one of the three hobbies you shared were legit something you enjoyed.

If Andy saw through the lies, he didn’t mention it. Why would he? Hell, he didn’t even know your real name and you probably didn’t know his, not yet at least. God knew if you guessed his age correctly, thinking he was in his late thirties; you didn’t want to think about it.

What you did learn and knew was true was that he had a great taste in restaurants – you legit had a small foodgasm – and that he was flirty. He complimented you several times and every time he did, you felt both pleased and incredibly guilty. During the whole meal, there was a battle raging inside you, gradually calming down as Andy’s resemblance to Steve put you at ease; you were a mediocre liar if even, but you could lie to yourself just fine. Or it could have been the wine.

“Listen, Kendra… I have a room few floors up. Would you like it to move this evening there?”

Your heart stopped in your chest before kicking in in a feverish pace, hammering against your ribcage. Your head was suddenly spinning.

Andy cocked his head to side, studying you, before an inviting smile spread his lips.

“We don’t have to, of course. But rest assured if we go, it will not stay unrewarded.”

You nearly choked on your spit, squeezing your eyes shut. The way he phrased it was _almost_ respectful – but also very telling.

There was no describing the shame settling deep in your gut; then again, this was what you _wanted._ More money. And if you had to go upstairs for it… well. At least Andy seemed nice enough. He reminded you of Steve – which was both a blessing and a curse – he was relatively young compared to what you had imagined the man you’d be meeting would be. He was undeniably attractive and he clearly didn’t aim to make you feel cheap… not more than strictly necessary.

As far as you were concerned, you had also chosen ‘maybe’ with other questions; for all you knew, this could end up in a blowjob and you thought… maybe that would fly. You could do that, maybe--- forcing your eyes open, you found Andy observing you quietly, patiently waiting for your decision.

He was giving you a _choice,_ which alone was a good sign – he wasn’t an asshole.

Or it could just be an act.

The reality might be that the moment the hotel room door clicked shut, he’d push you against the wall face-first and took whatever he wanted.

As his eyes never left you, patient but shamelessly appreciative of your looks, you took a deep breath and decided that no – Andy wasn’t heartless. He wasn’t some monster. The aura of power and confidence had one more shade to it: protectiveness.

It was ridiculous to think such of a man who was paying you to be here, but… it was the impression you got of him.

“A-alright,” you stuttered awkwardly, earning a wide smile from him, a twinkle of excitement in his irises.

“They’ll add the food and drinks to my bill. Let’s go.”

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷*♥⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

As the numbers of the floors climbed, you felt your stomach gradually sinking – and you were more and more doubtful about your decision. You weren’t ready for this. At all. Natasha was right – you needed connection… a _true_ connection.

And as nice as Andy was trying to be about this whole thing, you couldn’t— you felt so filthy for just sharing an elevator ride with this stranger.

Entering the room only solidified the ugly feeling in your gut and the moment the room door shut behind you, Andy didn’t slam you against the wall, no. Instead, you turned to him, feeling blood having drained from your face and yet pumping in your temples.

“I’m sorry. I can’t—I should go,” you blurted out, a slight tremble to your voice and to your hands.

It was a mistake, coming up here.

This _whole thing_ was a mistake-

To your shock, no shouting came. No anger, period. Just a disappointed sigh and that little sound made your rising panic settle, curiosity getting the best of you as you eyed the gorgeous man in front of you.

What was he even doing in a sugar daddy agency? It wasn’t like he could have a lack of female attention – or male for that matter – because he was handsome as hell and apparently rich.

“I’m not gonna stop you. I understand. I can imagine first times in such position are hard,” he explained his sentiment, causing your lips to part in surprise and a smudge of shame.

That obvious you were, huh?

“How can you tell?” you asked almost soundlessly, a huge lump growing your throat. All of sudden, you also felt terrible for disappointing _him_.

He only shrugged in response, a hint of a smile in one corner of his lips, almost concealed by his beard.

“I’m an attorney, honey. I have to be good at reading people.”

For the briefest moment, you acknowledged the flutter in your lower belly at the sugar-sweet endearment rolling off his tongue. _Honey._ And then it was gone, reality breaking through again along with the fresh guilt.

“I’m sorry. You can—you don’t have to pay the money to the agency-“

“That’s not how this works, honey,” he corrected you with a drop of patronizing, which you found yourself …. not hating. Here it was again… _honey._

You wished he’d stop saying it. And that he’d the slow steps towards you as well.

“I--- I don’t know then, how to… like compensate you, I just--- I can’t I’m sorry, I’m-“ you stumbled over your words, the shame grinding deeper and deeper and-

“You have a boyfriend,” he whispered in realization, eyes widening and by some strange game of lights darkening as well, turning into a raging ocean.

“…yes. I’m sorry for all this, I-“

“Oh _honey_ ,” Andy shook his head gently as he continued to approach you, voice uncharacteristically soft for a situation you two found yourself in. “Don’t be. He’s a lucky guy, your boyfriend. I wish my ex-wife had been so faithful.”

Your gaze automatically flickered to the empty space on his left hand. _Jesus._ “Oh. Uhm, sorry.”

That explained a thing or two.

His irises were ablaze, watching your every move, every breath, every involuntary shiver under his undivided attention. And then… then he smiled. Or maybe it was a smirk. You weren’t sure. You just knew it got harder to breathe and he was nothing like Steve--- _fuck,_ Steve, you needed to get the fuck out of here-

“You’re adorable. What a pure soul. Such a good girl.”

The jolt the endearment sent up your spine was impossible to ignore, causing you to shudder. Andy’s smile widened, the gap between you thinning.

“You like that, don’t you?” he queried, gently and yet. Yet it made the coil in your belly swirl and burn, hair stand on end as his aura earned a new tone – a predatory one, but at the same time… tempting. _No!_ That was wrong! You weren’t here of your own will, not really- “You like being a good girl, don’t you?”

You didn’t realize you were backed into a wall until your back literally hit it, leaving no more space for your retreat. Andy lifted his hand, agonizingly slowly – and still, you couldn’t seem to back away from the touch you knew was coming.

Maybe… maybe the attraction wasn’t a bad thing? You still wouldn’t sleep with him, your mind wasn’t _that foggy,_ but— you could still earn some more money and not entirely suffer for it?

The pad of his thumb was warm and soft as it skimmed over your jaw, brushing your lower lip, where it lingered, pulling it down with a minute pressure.

Besides the rise of your chest with your rapid breathing, you couldn’t make yourself to move an inch, hypnotized by the blue of his irises disappearing, the blue that should be having a drop of green in it, because you were Steve’s, you _loved_ Steve and you were doing this for him and for your and his future.

And yet, despite everything, you couldn’t deny that there was a warm slick gathering in your underwear, heat pooling in your core and it had everything to do with the man touching you now.

“Oh honey… so pretty, so good, so… immaculate. _Jesus,_ you have any idea how hot that is, makes me want to drag you through the mud I am…”

His free hand fell to your hip, squeezing lightly as if to examine your reaction. Swallowing against the sudden dry sensation in your throat, you allowed yourself to sink into the heat of his palm rather than avoid the touch.

A small whimper escaped your lips as his chest pressed against yours next, effectively trapping you; not necessarily forcefully, but enough to make it count. Enough to make you want more; and enough to make you want to flee.

_Shit,_ everything was so confusing and your heart was wild in your ribcage and you couldn’t tell anymore if it raced because Andy was a ridiculously attractive man showing very evident interest, his warmth seeping into you, his cologne making your head swim--- or if it was fear, the knot you felt tighten in your belly urging you to run before this got to places he wouldn’t let you escape from.

“Stop me, honey,” he whispered, voice low and husky, hot breath fanning over your face, the only true warning you got.

And then his face was so close you couldn’t bear looking at him anymore, letting your eyelids flutter shut. His lips were slightly chapped as they brushed yours, testing the waters before pushing further. He smelled different than you were used to – but the rough sensation of his beard against your skin was familiar; painfully so.

You didn’t stop him. You didn’t back out. You didn’t respond to his advances right away either, torn—because you found yourself _liking this._ And that was terribly, terribly wrong. Wasn’t it?

Your breath caught in your throat as the surprisingly hard lines of his body pressed against your yours, pushing you into the wall. You felt the rumble in his chest as he hummed and it finally made you act. Breathing him in, you forced yourself to kiss back.

His response was immediate. His hand ran up your waist, fingers squeezing your ribs just under your breasts, drawing a startled sound from your lips, one he instantly swallowed, seizing the opportunity to push past the seam of your lips. You felt your fingertips tingle as his tongue met yours, swirling and caressing you expertly, your thighs squeezing on instinct as you felt the hot pulse in your core.

“Atta girl,” he praised you softly, giving you a second to breathe before he dived back in, hips grinding into yours and offering you a taste of what was he hiding in those dress pants of his. You gasped as you felt him hard against your thigh, startled and much to your dismay, aroused.

Before you could decide which was winning, he wedged his knee between yours, the defined muscles of thigh pressing against your core, one of his hands gripping your hip to lead your movement. Your head spun as he guided you to grind against him, the friction delicious as was his taste on your tongue.

His other hand cupped your breast over the thin fabric of your dress and bra, dextrous fingers finding your hard nipple to roll it between them. An involuntary moan escaped you, your hips bucking of their own volition. Distantly, you were aware of the smile against your throat as your lips were set free, his assault on your senses continued above the crook of your neck.

“Wanna see you come, pretty girl,“ he muttered, teeth playfully nipping on your skin and you gasped, the words and the slightly unfamiliar voice saying them like a bucket of ice-cold water, instantly clearing the fog of arousal.

You flattened your hands against his chest – when had they gripped his suit jacket? – pushing as you shook your head, eyes snapping open.

“No- I--- I can’t, I-“

Andy moved back an inch, giving you a minute room to breathe, dark eyes boring into yours as you left tears of shame, confusion and frustration pooling in them.

His index finger cut off your protests as it landed on your lips and for the first time tonight, you truly felt fear. He was built – he was much stronger than you. If he pleased, he could have you if any way he wanted and to him, even if you tried to resist, it would be like you never put up a fight. His eyes were hungry, want, _need_ written all over his face and you felt your knees give out.

He caught you; not with brutal force to trap you, but to support you, that damn finger on your lips stroking the kiss-swollen flesh.

“Shh…” he hushed you, moving his fingers to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. “Shhhh, not like that, honey, I can see you wouldn’t let me.”

You shivered, confusion peaking as he kept observing you as if he was drinking you in; every detail, the no doubt messed up make-up, glassy eyes, the single tear running down your cheek. You felt physically ill and yet—you couldn’t deny the arousal smouldering somewhere inside you, waiting to be revived.

“I don’t--- I don’t understand-“ you whispered, the sound pathetic to your own ears.

Andy closed his eyes, clenching his jaw, the hands on you curling into fists. For a moment, he looked like he was in pain – and few seconds later, his eyes seemed even darker as they drilled into yours.

“So sweet, _Christ,_ I could eat you up…” he sighed and you had no doubt in your mind that he _could._ “I have an offer, honey. Listening?”

Hesitating for a few breaths, you nodded. A smirk curled Andy’s lips, the pads of his fingers stroking the hollow of your throat, chasing the fear away and stoking the fire inside you instead.

“You’re gonna get on that ridiculously expensive bed and spread your legs, pretty girl.” _Where did all the oxygen go, Jesus Christ?_ “You’ll let me see all of you, maybe touch a bit, within limits. And you’re gonna give me a real nice show. How does that sound? Can you be a good girl and come on your fingers?”

It only took you moments to weight your options – as far as you were concerned, this one was the most plausible way to satisfy you both. The cleanest way.

“Yes. Yes, I can.”

“That’s my girl.”

Except you _weren’t._ You were another man’s girl, but as he led you to the bed, tugging impatiently at your hand and yet not manhandling you, it was so easy to give in.

“Let me,” he hushed you as you reached for the back zipper of your dress and you obediently let your hands fall, reminding yourself to breathe when he brushed your hair out of the way, pulling as the zipper and tugging it open only half way, pushing one of the straps down your shoulder to reveal your bra – leaving you only half exposed. “Colour suits you. Leave in on like this.”

Nodding automatically, you earned a kiss to your bare shoulder, a muttered praise which dampened your underwear.

“Lie down, honey.”

And you did, suddenly excited fingers tucking the tight skirt up your legs of their own volition, revealing your lacy panties, drawing a guttural moan from Andy.

He was watching you, intense gaze never leaving the flimsy piece of fabric as he undid his belt.

The clank of the buckle startled you, because he had said he wouldn’t--- but he explained before you could question it and back out.

“Gotta take advantage of buying tickets to the front row,” he remarked suggestively, the reminder of relatively easy money making you spring into action and swallow the shame that climbed up your throat. 

Biting down on your lip, you hooked your fingers in your underwear and shuffled it down your legs just as he pulled out his cock – and your core clenched around nothing at the intimidating and tempting sight. He was big. Like, really big, but also kinda magnificent, the angry red tip with a glistening drops of precum sending fresh surge of arousal between your legs.

His lips parted as he stroked himself, leaving you helpless to do anything but feast your eyes. No matter the circumstance, there was no denying this man was insanely attractive and seeing him give himself some needed attention was an erotic sight. It was familiar too – he really was painfully reminding you of Steve.

“Touch yourself, honey.”

Closing your eyes and dipping your middle finger into your slick, yours legs jolted a bit – you craved to release the building tension more than you were willing to admit. Drawing a line up to your aching clit, a soft moan escaped you. It felt _so good._ And until the mattress next to you sunk, it was easy to forget you were being watched – but upon that reminder, a light brush of hand on your thigh, your hips only bucked as the coil in your belly tightened.

“That’s a good girl. Show me how sensitive you are, how much you need it, honey,” he whispered to your ear, the unmistakable rustle of fabric and the lilt of his voice telling you he was enjoying the view indeed.

It was so easy to get lost in the sensations, your own hand working you up, bigger hand occasionally skimming over your breasts, other times squeezing whenever it could reach – except for where your own hand was and it was both welcomed and driving you crazy with need. He guided your hand at some point, giving you direction to speed up, to sink deeper, _“use at least two fingers, honey, to make up for one of mine”,_ to play with your clit.

With three fingers sunk deep in your cunt, speeding up your movements, the squelchy sounds both embarrassing and insanely erotic, you could hear him tip over the edge, few drops of his seed painting your thigh, his breaths harsh and quick, a guttural moan escaping his lips.

“So fucking pretty, honey, doing so good,” he praised you breathlessly and despite yourself, your gaze found him, his fingers still wrapped around his cock, stroking to drag his pleasure out. “Come, for me, honey. Soak your fingers and gimme a taste.”

All air was punched out of your lungs at his words and you felt the coil in your belly snap, sending you into a spiral of pleasure, your hips grinding on your fingers as the familiar intense heat flooded your veins, making your head swim.

“Gorgeous.”

The single word reached from distance as you were coming from your high, temples pulsing with the blissful rush. As you ceased your movements, body turning limp, he snatched your hand wet with your juices--- the next thing you felt was the tip of his tongue swirling around your fingers, humming appreciatively at your taste.

It was when the reality set in and your hand automatically curled into a lose fist, weakly trying to earn freedom. He licked a few more times before he let go, giving enough time to your panic to settle in.

Oh _fuck_ this just happened. You just--- you- oh no. Oh fuck.

“You did wonderful, honey. Worth every fucking penny…”

Feeling tears gathering in your eyes, the bliss disappearing as quickly as it came, you felt your stomach turn as you tried to find your voice. “A-Andy, please, I-“

His arm pulled you to him, loosely embracing you and all you could do was to let him, too busy focusing on your breathing, tears uncontrollably rolling down your cheeks, soothed by a rough scratch of his beard and soft kiss to your jaw. 

“Hush, honey, none of that,” he whispered, probably to coax you. It had zero effect as your shoulders shook with the effort to supress your sobs. “You did so good. Seeing you fall apart, even if it wasn’t entirely for me… what a fucking pretty sight. Now give me one more kiss and I’ll take you home.”

“Uhm, dorms, I’m not-“ you babbled illogically, feeling his smile against our skin.

“Right. Dorms. Now be a good girl, kiss me like you mean it.”

He didn’t ask permission or requested it, taking your mouth mercilessly, forcing your own taste into your mouth. His fingers sunk into the cooling drops on top of your thigh, gathering his spent and swiftly pushing the pad of his forefinger past your entrance. He groaned in response to your gasp at the intrusion, your hips moving on instinct despite the sensitivity and his perverted actions.

“Oh, honey, the things I’d do to you…”

“N-no, please-“ you whimpered pathetically, fighting your body reaction as fresh tears gathered in your eyes.

His finger disappeared with a telling wet sound and he pecked your lips. “I know, honey. I know. Maybe next time you’ll let me. Maybe next time…”

He rose to his feet, materializing a packet of tissues from god knew where, wordlessly saying to clean yourself up. You did. Gratefully. His words echoed in your skull; a wish, a promise.

_Maybe. Next time._

“I’ll take you home now,” he announced and dropped a kiss to your hairline.

All you could do was take the affection and nod, strange numbness sneaking up your veins from your fingertips, up your limbs and finally reaching your chest and head.

Once you cleaned up, you redressed on autopilot, feeling something stir inside you as put on the wet panties – and the flicker of emotion was nothing pleasant. Fortunately, it died quickly; replaced by the blissful static short-circuiting your brain and cutting it off from any emotion.

You welcomed that Andy didn’t talk in the car. You could tell he was watching you as the city lights blurred behind the windshield, causing your eyes to burn; but he stayed quiet. Not even a radio was on; or maybe you just tuned it out, you weren’t sure.

You just knew that his hand brushed yours as he dropped you off with gentle, almost concerned goodbye which you half-heartedly returned, the one word surprisingly hard to push up your throat with the lump that was forming there ever since you climbed into his car.

Natasha was awake to welcome you; you didn’t even have to ring her to unlock the room for you. She just opened the door and took one look at you--- and she pulled you inside, the door clicking shut just a second before your knees buckled and you leaned onto the wall, choking on a sob.

True to her word, Nat coaxed you into getting to bed and then gave you the promised shoulder to cry on. And fuck did you cry. Rivers. Your breaths were coming out short, tightness in your chest and nausea rising up your throat as the sobs shook your body, trembling hands gripping Natasha’s t-shirt like a lifeline. She didn’t speak besides uttering few empty comforting words.

Eventually, it lulled to restless sleep.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷*♥⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

It didn’t take long for you to wake up with a startle, pillow damp from your tears, your pyjama – not that you remembered Natasha forcing you to change – soaked in your sweat. The ugly feeling was still sitting in your stomach, constricting your ribcage and you knew there was only one way out; even if it was the way deeper to the pit.

Reaching out for your phone on the nightstand, you dialled the only number that could be your salvation. Your heart pounded in your chest painfully in anticipation as your wordlessly prayed he picked up.

“Sweetheart?” Steve’s voice reached your ears; rough from sleep, the endearment more confusion than anything else.

It washed over you like a tide wave, calming – and covering you like a heavy blanket, weighting you down as it quickly felt yourself sinking into it and drowning in it instead.

You sputtered a noise, scratchy in your throat, something resembling a sob and a whine and Steve’s concerned voice called your name, demanding what was going on.

Fresh tears streaming down your cheeks and you covered your mouth just in case another of those horrible sounds were about spill from your lips.

“Sweetheart? _Please,_ you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

_Everything._ I _am. I was so so wrong. I was so_ bad.

Blinking away your tears as you blindly stared on the dark ceiling, you coaxed yourself into taking a deep breath, feeling your lower lip wobbling – as if you were a damn child.

Then again, with how unable you had been to see how today would turn out, you might as well be. A child. Inexperienced. _Pure soul, so immaculate,_ Andy’s voice echoed in your brain and it made you feel everything but that.

You felt _filthy_ ; dragged through the mud your potential sugar daddy claimed he was, but that wasn’t on him. That was on _you._

And you never had been more disgusted with yourself.

Steve kept asking what happened, begging you to talk to him and finally, you managed to form words.

“I— _Steve,_ ” your voice broke on his name and you had to take a breath again so you wouldn’t just go back to the unstoppable sobbing. “I did so-something ter-terrible.” You sobbed anyway as the idea of your next words being true sent you into a spiral of despair, because _fuck,_ you couldn’t lose him. “And I’m--- scared that you’ll n-n-never f-for-forgive me.”

_“Sweetheart?”_

Wiping at your nose and biting your cheek at his fearful tone, you shuddered before continuing. The ominous silence stretched.

“I’m so s-sorry. I- I did it for us. I… I swear that I did--- did it for us.”

Maybe if you said it enough times, you’d make up for the fact that for a moment, it felt really good to fall apart in front of another man in much sweeter way than you were falling apart now.

Maybe.

But for now, after you told Steve everything, the dial tone as the call disconnected was all you had. You clutched the pillow soaked in your own tears, choking on a sob and prayed to all saints and Gods you knew that Steve’s kind heart had enough forgiveness for your stupid ass. If there was one person on this whole damn planet who could forgive for what you did, you thought it would be him.

…maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> So… my first fic where I kinda hate the reader? Or at least I’m a lot like WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! I don’t know. Cheat fics are… yeah, cheating is a big BIG no-no for me, so I’m not sure where this came from and if it turned out okay. 
> 
> Bet you didn’t expect that much angst. I like to think she never met Andy again and that they figured stuff out with Steve – they went through a rough patch, but made it work. But hey, if you want, you can imagine entirely something else. *smirk smirk*
> 
> Also, FYI, I lost one night’s sleep, because of the moral hangover I felt with the reader. So I hope it was worth it and at least one person liked this.
> 
> Anyway. Thank you for reading!


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